


Smutember Day 20: Dream/Daydream

by WitchOfTheWestCountry



Category: Friday the 13th Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex (obviously)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 17:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12137268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchOfTheWestCountry/pseuds/WitchOfTheWestCountry
Summary: Kitten gets lost in the woods and comes face to face with Jason Voorhees





	Smutember Day 20: Dream/Daydream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittenmoon21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmoon21/gifts).



> Submission for Tumblr's Smutember event. Kitten's been dying for some dead dick x

Kitten loved the woods normally, but it was starting to get dark and the first stirrings of panic were taking root in her belly, fluttering like restless moths.

It had been a mistake to leave the path. She knew that now. Taking her phone from her pocket she thumbed the button on the side and squinted at the screen in the growing gloom for the umpteenth time. The battery was on 75%, which was good, but there was absolutely no signal, which was bad.

She slipped it back in her pocket and continued, trudging over the soft ground, trying not to admit that she was lost.

There was a sound behind her, the crack of a twig, and she spun on her heels. There was nothing there, but she realised how vulnerable she was. She'd watched enough horror movies to know what happened to girls who strayed from the path, and it never ended well.

Picking up her pace, she started walking again, not as aimlessly as before - now she was trying to get as far away from the sound behind her as possible.

Another noise, this one louder and nearer, an unmistakable footstep. Kitten broke into a trot as something crashed through a bush, casting an anxious glance over her shoulder.

It was a man. A huge one, heavily built and broad across, barging his way through the undergrowth in pursuit.

There was no kidding herself that he meant no harm: his clothes were torn and bore countless rusty stains that could only be blood, and he clutched a large machete in one hand that cut the air with every sweep of his pumping arm.

Kitten started to run, boots trampling the dirt and kicking up leaves. She stumbled on a protruding root and barely kept her footing, staggering beneath the weight of her terror.

The trees were closer together in this part, and she weaved nimbly between them, the dense foliage overhead blotting out all but the vaguest glimmer of light. She dodged around a particularly broad one, her breath squealing in her throat.

The man was still behind her, not running, but making his inexorable way towards her, his much longer legs covering more ground with barely any effort. He was dogged in his approach, striding along, obliterating anything in his path like an unstoppable current of lava.

Kitten screamed as something brushed her shoulder, the man's thick fingers skidding away without purchase, but the sudden contact sent her into blind despair.

There was no escape. She could run all she wanted and he would catch her.

Feeling hopeless, she stopped running and turned to meet her fate.

He stopped as if surprised at her sudden surrender. She could only imagine the expression on his face, as his features were covered by the grubby holed plastic of a hockey mask, but she saw the gleam of his eyes from within it, studying her with keen curiosity.

Up close, he was even larger than she’d previously thought, standing over six and a half feet, the bulk of his shoulders blotting out the forest as he loomed over her. At just over five feet tall herself, he was gigantic compared to her, a mountain of a man.

“Please…”she begged, her voice sounding tiny and weak in the vastness of their surroundings. “Please don’t hurt me……”

He made a grunt, the sound muffled behind the mask, but if she didn’t know better she would have said it was a snort of laughter.

He took one long step towards her, gloved hand grabbing a fistful of the front of her jacket, and Kitten screamed as he heaved her into the air, her legs flailing fruitlessly.

Hefting her as though she weighed nothing, he slammed her into the broad trunk of the tree behind her, knocking the breath from her lungs, making her dizzy.

She blinked to focus, now at a level with his blank face, and he cocked his head to one side, scrutinising her with dangerous interest, possibly relishing her fear.

“No! Please!” she sobbed as he lifted his right arm above his shoulder, the threatening blade brandished with a brutal finality. She felt him tense, ready for the killing blow, and cringed, thinking of her little boy at home with the sitter, waiting for his mother to come back…

“I have a son!” she wailed. “Please don’t kill me! I’m all he has!”

Her attacker hesitated, his raised arm drooping slightly, and she clutched onto the wrist of the hand holding her, beseeching him with her eyes.

“He’s 3 years old,” she said. “Just a baby.”

The machete sagged further, the eyes trapped beneath the holes in the mask fixed on her with an intensity that gave her hope. Fumbling in her pocket, she grappled her phone out, nearly dropping it in her haste, and quickly opened her photo album.

“Look!”

She held it out towards him, showing him the blond child sitting on the swing, smiling up at the camera though the sun that shone in his eyes and reflected off his hair.

The man stared at the photo for a long time until the screen darkened.

Kitten screamed as he released her and she slid down the tree, bark scraping her back and snatching at her hair, until she landed on her feet.

Wordlessly, he waved a hand in a shooing gesture and turned to walk away.

Watching his broad back retreat, Kitten remembered that she was lost.

“Wait!” she called. “Which direction should I go in?”

He turned. Although his face was unreadable, she saw exasperation in the minute shake of his head, and heard a barely audible sigh. Worried that she’d pissed him off, she started to back away nervously.

“It’s ok, I can find my way,” she stammered, but he bent down, grabbing her around the waist and tossing her over his shoulder.

Kitten squealed, grasping at the torn khaki cloth of his shirt for support, feeling powerful muscles bunch underneath as he began to walk. His shoulder battered her ribs, the movement tossing her hair over her face and Kitten watched the ground rush along with steady speed.

The encounter had weakened her, and she hung limply with her face against his back. She knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet, physically or metaphorically, and wondered if he would tire of her presence and decide to kill her after all. She whimpered as he made a sudden turn, gripping the back of her legs within the circle of his arm to hold her in place.

Time passed in an unknowable torrent, and before she knew it, she heard traffic nearby, and lifted her head hopefully, pushing the hair out of her eyes.

With a sickening jolt she was back on her feet again, her unlikely saviour brusquely pointing the way toward the sounds of passing cars before turning and striding away without a backward look.

She found the road easily, bursting out of the forest onto a busy road, giddy with the sudden exposure to lights and noises. She could hardly believe she was alive, but got her bearings and began to walk home.

 

The babysitter seemed shocked by her wild appearance, her hair windblown and snarled with leaves, her boots muddy, her face pale - but Kitten told her nothing, merely paying the teenage girl her money and sending her on her way.

Her son was sleeping peacefully in his bed, blissfully unaware of the fact that he’d nearly become motherless that night, and Kitten watched him slumber for a while, drawing comfort from his deep breathing and the flutter of his delicate eyelids.

She went to bed, exhausted, overwhelmed and still suffering from the trauma of all that had transpired. As she tried to get to sleep, she couldn’t help but replay the events over and over in a sickening mind-movie. She remembered the way he’d stalked her, so swift and so sure despite his lumbering weight, and the way the machete had trembled at the end of his arm when he’d lifted it in the air. Then she remembered the way he’d lifted her with one hand and held her against the tree - the way he’d tossed her over his shoulder and carried her to relative safety.

Kitten felt a blush begin to climb her chest, crawling up her neck to fill her cheeks with hot blood.

She’d always been submissive sexually, and the main things that were guaranteed to turn her on in a prospective partner were size and power - and this guy had both in spades.

She shivered under the the cosy pressure of her blankets, wondering how different it would have been if he’d tossed his weapon aside and brought out a different one…….

 

Kitten was back in the forest, only this time there was a bright moon to light the scene. She was stood in a clearing that had one huge tree in the centre, and she was cowering against it as the big man stomped towards her.

He had his machete, and it seemed larger than before - a huge broadsword that flashed in the moonlight.

“Oh no! Please!”

She held up her hands in supplication, begging him for mercy, but he growled and swung his weapon.

She had closed her eyes, but she heard the whistle as the metal parted the air, and felt a sharp breeze gust past her, but there was no pain.

Cracking her eyes open, she looked down to see that he’d slashed the fabric of her jeans at her hip, exposing the white lace of her underwear.

“Oh dear,” she murmured.

Another swing of the blade and the other side of her jeans were opened, and Kitten sagged back against the tree. His gloved hand closed over the waistband, his knuckles pressing into her belly, and with a rough jerk he’d torn the garment from her, the denim ripping easily, the seams separating under the onslaught.

She staggered, nearly falling, but he grabbed her by the front of the jacket, tugging her upright, wrenching the zip asunder.

He stepped closer, holding the flat of the machete against her thigh. It was cold and hard but welcome. Kitten swallowed as those bright eyes studied her again with more intensity than before, the huge hand creeping inside her ruined jacket to close over her breasts through the thin cloth of her blouse.

She sighed at the rough touch, placing her own hands against the bark of the trunk to steady herself. 

He fondled her with no finesse, greedily groping at the tender swells of flesh, pinching at her nipples. Kitten braced her legs apart, pushing herself against his hand. She wanted him to know how much she craved this treatment.

Impatient, he used his blade to slash the blouse open at the front, then slid it more delicately down to slice her underwear away. She shuddered as the cold air crept up between her legs, touching the wetness there.

He stabbed the machete into the soft earth next to him and left it stuck out of the ground, freeing his other hand.

Kitten tilted her head back to look up at him as he put his hands inside her clothes, coarse gloves against her naked skin. She could feel the strength in his fingers as they crawled over her, pressing into her flanks. He made little noise except for the harsh and ragged sound of his breathing, slurping damply behind his mask, and Kitten winced as he curled one arm around her, groping at her ass with little regard for her comfort. He grunted then, his grip biting into her flesh appreciatively, and kicked her feet further apart.

Obediently, Kitten stood still as he explored between her legs, one huge finger probing the moist rim of her cunt.

Unable to restrain herself she squeaked as he thrust the digit in, penetrating her so harshly it almost hurt. But it was a good pain - the best kind - and she tipped her hips towards him.

He didn't appear to know what he was doing, rummaging in her pussy experimentally, a guttural rumble building in his throat like the growl of an angry dog. She could see his hard-on, a formidable outline straining at his khaki pants, the.muscles in his powerful thighs tensing.

Bolder now at the evidence of his excitement, Kitten undid his fly, gasping as the swell of his cock crowded out. It was massive, a dark club of veined flesh that looked glossy in the moonlight, uncut with the head protruding from the roll of his foreskin.

He stopped fondling her as she wrapped her small hand round the sinewy rod, pulling it free of his pants. It was hot and pulsing, almost vibrating under her attention.

Appearing to reach a decision, he put both hands on top of her head and pushed downwards, forcing her into her knees as her legs crumpled under her. She swayed forward, nose full of the musky, masculine scent of cock and within moments her mouth was full of the flavour too.

His grip tightened in her hair as she gaped her jaw open, taking the impossible girth as far as she could, saliva dribbling over her lips. He had an earthy taste to him, the soul of the forest centred in the branch she swallowed, his sap rising to scald her tongue.

He pushed himself deeper into her mouth, and Kitten gagged as the tip nudged the back of her throat, but she sucked on it eagerly, pulling in her cheeks and crushing the meaty length against the roof of her mouth. He shifted uneasily, cock twitching between her teeth.

There was a moment of panic as her airway was blocked, her mouth too full to accommodate his prick and her breath at the same time, but to her relief he allowed her to pull her head back.

She looked up at him, reared above her, watching her actions with his mask blank of emotions.

Seeking to soothe her aching jaw, she released him with a messy slurp.

“There's another place this can go,” she told him coyly, wondering if he knew what to do with the thing, but he appeared to understand. Hooking his hands under her armpits, he lifted her - off her knees and off the ground, suspended in mid air before slamming her back against the tree trunk once again.

Kitten didn't need any encouragement to open her legs, wrapping them round his waist. She could feel the hot brand of his cock burning against the back of her thigh, and with a quick wriggle to reposition herself it pressed at her vulva instead.

Lifting her higher, he rooted around trying to find his way in, letting out a grunt of frustration as he failed repeatedly. His hands tightened under her arms, bruising her, and he snarled wordlessly. She could feel the annoyance emanating from him, and whilst she was afraid she was also excited, his energy volatile and masculine.

Struggling in his grip, Kitten tried to help, circling her lower body until she felt his cock-head, poised under her cunt.

He made a small noise of satisfaction, and her back was up against the tree once more, pressed so hard to it she was surprised it remained rooted. He pushed his hips upwards, filling her suddenly and completely, spearing her on the blunt tip as she groaned. He was impatient, not waiting for her to get used to him, jamming himself inside her, stretching her around him. She squealed as he forced more of himself in, feeling like she'd split open, her mouth hanging open with the shock of the invasion. He seemed even bigger than he'd looked now he was in her, and there was pain that suddenly turned to bliss as he finally succeeded.

Kitten tried to hold onto his shoulders as he started to fuck, but each powerful thrust dislodged her hands until she simply gave in. He lifted and lowered her with little care for her comfort, slamming her onto his dick, her head snapping back and forth on the slender stem of her neck. He snorted and puffed through the holes in his mask, rutting her into the tree.

Kitten wailed, her cries swallowed by the vastness of the forest at night, answered by the screeches of animals as they fled from the commotion. His cock bashed her cervix, sending shockwaves through her, the bulk of his body battering the insides of her thighs.

He picked up his pace, pounding her mercilessly, sending little jolts of ecstasy from her pussy and onward into the pit of her stomach. She twisted in his grip, arching her back, using her legs for leverage, and was rewarded by a fierce assault to her g-spot. Jerking her head back, almost stunned by the tree behind her, Kitten shrieked as her pussy walls began to tremble, building up heat, clenching around the cock she rode.

He let out a hoarse yell that drowned out her own, pinning her to the tree, shuddering as he spilled what felt like a gallon of seething spunk into her.

Kitten gritted her teeth against the aftershocks that twitched her hips and fluttered in her stinging pussy, finally able to get a grip on the man inside her.

He leaned against her briefly, breath gurgling in his throat, then pulled out abruptly, leaving her cunt empty and gaping. Now spent, she held little interest for him, and he peeled her clinging limbs off, letting her drop to the ground.

Her legs trembling, Kitten staggered like a young deer, holding onto the tree for support. Her partner was already stuffing himself back into his pants, fastening them clumsily, and as she watched he turned his back on her, yanking the machete from its sheath in the ground.

He strode off, leaving her sticky and sore but sated.

 

Safe in her bed, Kitten put her vibrator aside. It had been a nice little dream, but in reality she knew she would be lucky to get away alive if she encountered him a second time. He didn't seem the type to give second chances.

Still. She loved the woods. Maybe she'd go back one day.


End file.
